


The Buddha is My Bitch

by Edgelord (lostlikeme)



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Amnesia, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Community: seasonofkink, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Fated Bros, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Memory Loss, Moresomes, Or Is It?, Oral Sex, Prison, Prison Sex, Reincarnation, Rough Sex, Spiritual, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-14 17:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11788128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlikeme/pseuds/Edgelord
Summary: Unable to remember his past and sentenced to prison for a crime he didn't commit, Sanzo has all but given up hope.  Luckily, destiny has other plans. With the help of a monkey, a cockroach, and a mass murderer, he might just have a chance at escape. He should have known his spiritual awakening was hiding in the back of a jail cell.





	The Buddha is My Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a long time coming, and held me prisoner for over two years. Sanzo was the seed that planted this idea in my head when I was just a wee weeaboo, which later sprouted into an obsession when I discovered the book "[If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him!](https://www.amazon.com/Meet-Buddha-Pilgrimage-Psychotherapy-Patients/dp/0553278320/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1504565977&sr=1-1&keywords=if+you+meet+the+buddha+on+the+road+kill+him)" by Sheldon Kopp. Remember kids, be your own god.

There’s a lot Sanzo can’t recall, like who he was before this or where he was headed before he was intercepted, but mainly, and most importantly, how the hell he ended up in a prison in the first place. Sanzo doesn’t flinch at the spittle, he barely bristles from the catcalls. He’s heard worse than this before, when he was smaller and more vulnerable, but he won’t make the same mistake twice. 

His fingers twitch, longing for the press of cool steel against his palm, the comforting click of the trigger. The handcuffs are hardly as reassuring, even when they scrape his wrists raw in that way he pretends not to like. Sanzo misses his clothes too, and how they cloaked his body and covered most of his face. With just a thin orange jumper separating Sanzo’s skin from the rest of the prison scum, he might as well be naked. 

Someone shouts suggestively from a cell when Sanzo passes by. "You sure you're in the right prison honey?" 

Stone and iron-wrought bars suffocate him from either side as he walks, leaving a narrow path illuminated like the yellow-brick road. “So sure I fucked your mother on the way in,” Sanzo says through clenched teeth. One officer laughs and the other elbows him in the ribs. 

The little cell they shove him in wouldn't pass the minimal requirements for a dog kennel, but he’s spent the night in worse. Once he’s uncuffed, Sanzo shuffles into the little space between the bunks and the solitary shelving unit without trouble. The floor is nothing more than a slab of cement. It's cold as shit and smells just as bad. A cockroach pauses on the corner of the wall to test the air. 

It’s about here, that Sanzo should have known.

Although he sets down the folded sheet they forced into his hands and turns swiftly, it’s still too late. A lanky, towering douchebag enters the room, posture hunched with hungry eyes.

“Nice hair,” Sanzo grumbles. Shoulder length and clown red, it’s the only thing outclassing the stupid fucking look on his face. The kicker is the bangs, springing from his scalp like a pair of antenna.

Cockroach McShitface frowns. “I’m top dog around here,” he sneers down at Sanzo. “And this is my room.” Shitface raises a brow and reaches forward to grasp his shoulder. Sanzo gives his intimidation tactics a four out of ten at best. “How are you gonna pay rent, huh?”

Sanzo blinks once, unfazed. It’d be funny if he had a sense of humor. “You’re full of shit,” he tells the vermin, just to watch his face falter.

The room is too full with the appearance of a third person, shorter than both of them even with a couple extra inches of height from his hair. He springboards from the wall like a drunken acrobat and snatches a pillow off the top bunk. He hurls it at Shitface and chases him out. 

“Get the hell out of my cell pervert! I bet you were in here trying to sniff my underwear!” 

Given the leery look of him, Sanzo wouldn’t be surprised.

“You wish cocksucker!” 

Sometimes Sanzo feels separate from his own life, like he’s watching an old movie with grainy film. He waits for the redhead to round the corner before adjusting his attention to his new cellmate. The kid swings from the weak metal bed frame and lands at Sanzo’s heel. 

His feet are bare, and he’s got eyes like solid gold. “I’m--”

Sanzo snaps. “A monkey?”

“Goku!” the brunette shouts. 

Sanzo scowls. He already knows that, somehow. This is a waste of time. Sanzo considers offering his own name in return and decides against it. Familiarity breeds feelings, and feelings breed contempt. 

“Fuck off,” he says instead. “Shouldn’t you be in juvvie?”

This guy is more of a kid, not just in size but in the face, with cheeks like dumplings and a smile starved for attention.

“I’m nineteen,” Goku says tersely. “And what about you, shouldn’t you say thank you?” 

“Tch. I don’t need lessons in manners from a monkey.” 

Sanzo flinches almost as soon as he raps Goku in the back of the head. For the life of him, he can’t figure out why it feels like a reflex, as natural as slapping a mosquito. The revenge blow never comes, just Goku staring at him with big, glossy eyes. Does someone this pathetic really belong in a prison? Maybe Sanzo should be asking himself the same question.

“Why are you here?” he asks Goku instead. 

“I guess I sorta...killed someone.” 

There’s a pause that forces Sanzo to prompt. “You guess?”

Goku shrugs. He doesn’t look anymore like a murderer than before the confession. He looks like an oversized dog with a pit for a stomach and a nose for trouble. The kind of dog everyone passes by at the shelter because it barks too much and pees when it gets excited. If pressed, Sanzo maintains a preference for cats.

“Well the thing is, I don’t remember it at all!”

“Right,” Sanzo says, voice level. “And the devil told you to do it, is that right?”

Goku hangs his head. “A god.”

Sanzo snorts. “What’s the difference?”

Dinner was long over before Sanzo arrived, so Goku spends the last few hours before lights out cajoling his name from him. It slips from his mind and off the tip of his tongue before he can stop himself, wrecking the formality he tried so desperately hard to maintain. Their chemistry creates an uncomplicated atmosphere Sanzo could lose himself in.

That first night he dreams of Koumyou; he tells Sanzo to lighten up and have a smoke. The Merciful Goddess agrees with him, and they gang up on Kouryou like they always do. Sanzo tells them both to go to hell and wakes up on purpose. The images fade like chalk drawings on the sidewalk after a heavy rainfall. Blinking in the dim light, he finds Goku staring at him with surprising focus. It takes every ounce of self control not to take a swing at him. When Sanzo speaks his voice is cracked and dry.

“You watching me sleep?”

Goku turns red and shakes his head but Sanzo doesn’t believe him. All he can think about is lighting a smoke. 

“It’s breakfast time,” Goku says after sniffing the air. Ten seconds later the morning bell sounds. “I can always tell right before it’s time to eat!” he says proudly. Sanzo struggles out of bed while Goku talks his ear off. “You gotta meet my friends,” he insists. Sanzo tries not to have any expectations. “You’re gonna get along great,” Goku assures him. 

They make their way into the dingy, oversized room the facility is trying to pass off for a cafeteria. There’s as many tables shoved inside it as the walls will allow, creating the illusion that they’re slowly closing in on them. There’s bugs in between the cracks in the brickwork, scuttling around the gray slop being served for breakfast. Sanzo doesn’t blame them, he doesn’t want to eat it either. 

The last of three stooges waves to Goku from the entrance before taking their place behind them in line. Sanzo sizes them up on instinct. The Cockroach is back with a new friend, who introduces himself as Cho Hakkai. The tightly wound politeness is more concerning than Gojyo’s crass, and the glass eye is seriously unnerving. 

“These are my friends,” Goku says, as if the context isn’t enough.

Sanzo stiffens at the smell of food. “This place is a shithole,” he complains. 

Goku laughs and Hakkai’s smile tightens. “Nice to meet you too, Sanzo.”

The sound of his own name rings an alarm bell in his head. “I didn’t mention my name,” he says, eyes skirting in Goku’s direction.

“No need,” Hakkai says mildly, shifting the tension. “We’ve heard all about you.”

Lunch is no more palatable than he’s used to, so Sanzo picks at a few grains of rice while he runs the past twenty-four hours through his head. He keeps trying to recall the moment where Goku had time to slip away and reveal gossip. There’s a possibility Sanzo is being completely paranoid. Besides, how long can it take for any information to circulate in claustrophobic crapbag like this?

“I got caught counting cards,” Hakkai explains. The four of them are crushed against each other at an overcrowded table. Goku shovels half cooked vegetables into his mouth and pushes him into Hakkai when he reaches for a fork. “But that was hardly the worst thing on my arrest warrant.”

Sanzo waits for an explanation that never comes. When Hakkai finishes his last bite of food, Sanzo realizes he can't recall him ever starting. The guards shepherd them into the courtyard while Sanzo battles with a distinct sense of deja vu. Is he losing time? Someone knocks him so hard in the shuffle that he almost falls face forward.

“What’d they get you for?” Gojyo’s slippery voice disrupts his train of thought. “Prostitution?”

Sanzo snorts. “You wish.”

Gojyo flicks a cigarette butt in his direction. “As if you haven’t been fucking halfway across China!”

The burning embers barely miss the edge of his sleeve. “Watch it!” Sanzo twitches with the effort to withhold violence. “My soul is cleansed.”

“Oh yeah?” Gojyo laughs so hard his shoulders shake. “Born again Cherry-chan!” He slaps his thigh and guffaws at his own joke while Sazo’s anger boils over. “Even your asshole is holier than thou.”

This time, Sanzo fails to resist the urge to punch him. His knuckles collide with Gojyo’s mouth, teeth sharp against his skin. The crack resounds in the cold air and two nosy people transform into a crowd. While Gojyo may be bigger, he doesn’t think half as quick. Sanzo catches the foot aimed for his stomach and sends him to the ground. When Sanzo tries to leave the fight someone shoves him back into the center of the circle.

Gojyo licks his busted lip with an undefeated smile. “Scared of what I got?”

Sanzo’s jaw tightens. “Yeah, all two inches of it.” 

The guards don’t break them apart until there’s blood everywhere. Gojyo gets written up on some kind of infraction but they take Sanzo to the infirmary where he sits without treatment for at least an hour. The nurse does a mediocre job of resetting his nose and Sanzo ends up inhaling antiseptic. 

On the way back to his cell, someone throws a pillow case around his head and pulls him to the ground in a chokehold. He automatically slows his breathing and resists the urge to panic. This isn't how he's going to die, he knows that much for sure. Those assholes in heaven will never let him live it down. The first thing Sanzo sees when his vision clears is Hakkai’s fingers pressed to his lips in a wordless request not to speak. Sanzo growls into the cloth Gojyo is gagging him with anyway. 

This isn’t the first time he’s been kidnapped. It didn’t work last time, and isn’t going to work now. If Sanzo thinks about it too long, he can still remember the sound of their voices, and the three gunshots that followed. 

“Stay with us, Sanzo.” Hakkai frowns, tightening his grip and digging his fingers into Sanzo’s shoulder. “You got our friend into a lot of trouble earlier,” he admonishes. Sanzo wonders who the hell Hakkai is talking about. Sanzo doesn’t have any friends. “I think you owe him an apology.”

Gojyo arches his eyebrows and Sanzo resolutely turns away. “A blowjob,” the redhead leers. “I’d call that fair trade.”

He’d rather eat his own shit. There’s drool pooling on the floor because Sanzo can’t flex his jaw properly. When Hakkai unties the gag Sanzo wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist. His lips form a hard line, eyes shifting between the two of them. 

“For which one of you?”

He’s not sure which option is less repulsive. Hakkai clarifies with a smile that could castrate lesser men. Sanzo’s eyes skate warily to Gojyo's trained stance - maybe it already has. He moved like a bitch in heat - tail flagged, ass up.

“We like to do everything together,” Hakkai answers.

Sanzo scoffs. “Why does that not surprise me?”

The bargaining of his body is cut blissfully short by the appearance of the monkey. This isn’t the first time he’s saved Sanzo’s ass. His brows are furrowed and his round eyes are glossy with tears. Gojyo pulls up his pants and Hakkai puts on a sincere imitation of sympathy. 

“You guys are bargaining for blowjobs - without me?” Goku screeches. “This is such bullshit! You left me out last time, too!” Goku looks crushed in a way Sanzo doesn’t have any right feeling sorry for. “And I was nice to you Sanzo, I gave you half my meatbun!” 

“So what?” Sanzo snaps. “I owe anyone who shows an ounce of basic human decency a blowjob?”

Hakkai laughs. “This is a prison, afterall.”

The warden catches them before anyone has time to wheedle their way into a proper cocksucking. He combs his moustache with his fingers through the reprimand, before sending Sanzo to the counselor where he’s force fed a diatribe about consent. When he’s released he finds Goku waiting outside the door, all but wagging his tail.

Proximity turns him into Sanzo’s number one biggest fan, and for now he tolerates it, if only because Goku is also his number one bodyguard. They talk the entire way back to their cell, with Goku as tense as a dog that can smell a cat just outside the back door. Sanzo got a whiff of something himself when he first walked in, a scent so familiar it stretches back before memory.

“Brat, can you keep a secret?”

“My name is Goku,” he repeats. “Son Goku.”

Sanzo dismisses him with a sideways glance. When he tests the syllables on his tongue it feels like they’ve always been there. “Son Goku,” he concedes. Trust feels physical, like a bad taste in the back of his throat. “I need to get the hell out of here.”

Goku grins. “I was waiting for you to say that.”

They don’t have another private moment together until after light’s out. When the guards trade shifts Goku pokes his head over the railing to talk to his cellmate struggling to sleep on the cheap mattress below. Sanzo is busy creating a contingency plan, in case the kid falls through like everyone in his life always has. Who they are, Sanzo can never quite remember, but the grief is stagnating between his shoulders, leaving knots. 

"We can sleep together, if you want," Goku suggests quietly. Sanzo deliberately ignores the wide brown eyes peering over the shaky metal. “Not like that,” Goku clarifies. “Just so I can protect you.”

Sanzo supposes it’s the possibility that scares him more than anything else, but temptation always tastes sweeter when you skip right to dessert. 

“I don’t need your help,” Sanzo reminds him. He takes a deep breath and turns purposely onto his other side. "You better not give me fleas."

Goku manages the descent without a creak, slipping in beside Sanzo without preamble. Although he’s always been testy about physical touch, Sanzo can feel the force between them like the flow from a river. When Goku inches so close their shoulders brush, Sanzo can’t bring himself to snap at the show of intimacy.

“Goku,” he whispers in the darkness. “I’ll give you my ration tomorrow if you tell me what Cyclops is really in for.”

“Hakkai?” Goku confirms. “Just ask him!” He inches close, until their knees knock together. “One word,” Goku says in a conspiratorial whisper. “Mass murder.” 

The news drops like a dead weight in Sanzo's stomach, but it doesn't deter him. If anything, it cements Sanzo’s decision. Combined, the four of them are more of a threat than any of them on their own. From what he can make of the floorplan on his own, the prison has an intricate sewage system. He’s willing to bet Hakkai has figured that much out already. That leaves Goku as the muscle and Gojyo as the distraction. 

“You smell the same,” Goku mumbles into the crook of his neck.

A palm slams into the center of Goku’s forehead and the bed creaks. “You’re fucking creepy. Go to sleep.”

Heat greets Sanzo before consciousness settles, emanating from the small body wrapped tightly around him. He can feel Goku’s dick pressed against his tailbone, solid and unmoving as a rock. His own complacency is beginning to disturb him. Goku stirs, but never stutters forward. A full minute passes before Goku pulls away with a disappointed groan. 

The seconds tick by so slowly Sanzo almost thinks he’s given up, gone to the foot of the bed to jack himself off like an animal. Sanzo cracks one eye open to find Goku hovering above his lap. It’s still early enough that the lights aren’t on. Goku blinks twice and stares at Sanzo through his lashes.

“Can I suck you off?”

Sanzo wants to back up but settles for sitting up on his elbows. “What would I get out of that?" he complains. Against his better judgement, he keeps talking. "And how do I know you don't have something?"

This isn’t how this conversation is supposed to go. There isn’t supposed to be a conversation, not about sex, not ever again after what happened. Or did it even happen? (That thing he can’t remember, edging along the corner of his subconscious. What is it?) 

Goku melts at the mere prospect. "Please? I'm clean, I promise!"

Sanzo averts his eyes. "And what if I'm not?"

Abstinence isn’t as much as a rule as it is a guideline. Right? That’s exactly what the water sprite would say, isn’t it? Already the piece of shit is rubbing off on him and leaving stains. The thin sheet pulled up to his collarbone is hardly a shield. 

Goku laughs so hard he clutches his sides. "You're clean, Sanzo," he says without hesitation. 

Sanzo isn’t really into...people, but the kid actually gives really good head. His enthusiasm does most of the work for him, but he also has an active tongue and absolutely no aversion to gagging. Sanzo sears the back of his throat with each thrust while Goku keeps an impossible pace.

"You taste really, really good," Goku mumbles into his pubes.

"Shut up," Sanzo snaps, ignoring Goku's eyes shining up at him.

"Bether than dumpligth." Goku's cheek bulges.

"I said shut up!" Sanzo pulls on Goku’s hair until he winces. "And don't talk with your mouth full. It’s impolite."

Goku pops Sanzo’s cock from his mouth and wipes spit on the back of his hand. “Sorry.”

Sanzo scowls, dick twitching in the cold air. “I didn’t say stop.” 

Goku doesn’t need to be told twice, lips eagerly resealed around Sanzo’s rigid erection. He takes him past his palate, moaning at a volume Sanzo could only describe as gratuitous. The lone warning sign of his impending orgasm is the way his fingers twitch in Goku’s hair, balls drawn up close. Sanzo squeezes his eyes shut and makes a shallow noise in the back of his throat when he finally unloads in the wet, contracting sleeve of Goku’s throat.

He swallows the entire load in one go like a shot of whisky, but afterward, Sanzo can’t get him to stop crying. It’s like sex pulled a stopper from his tear ducts. Sanzo catches his breath while fat, slippery tears roll down Goku’s cheeks. Sanzo tucks himself away and waits out the sniffling, until the brat can soothe himself properly.

“Why is everyone always hurting?” Goku asks, crushed by the weight of his own feelings and tearshed.

The question is so broad that Sanzo stumbles over a response; complex in it’s own simplicity. He touches Goku’s face, brief and intimate, before tracing along the caulk in the wall. 

“There is no reason.”

“Liar,” Goku says, smearing dirt across his cheeks. 

Except lies are easier to stomach.

“Attachment leads to suffering,” Sanzo relents, ignoring the sting in his gut. 

Goku looks down at his palms. “But being alone is worse.” Sanzo doesn’t ask him to elaborate but Goku keeps talking anyway. “When I was a kid...sometimes I’d freak out when people touched me. Ever since I could remember.” His adam’s apple bobs like a cast fishing line. “After that, they locked me up. I had to stay in a room all by myself. ” He smiles, but the skin under his eyes doesn’t wrinkle. “Sometimes I’m still afraid I’ll wake up there.”

“That’s stupid,” Sanzo spits. “You’re stuck in real prison with the rest of us. I’d definitely notice if you went missing. I’d hear your loud voice calling from anywhere.” 

His face turns red and the tears dry on his cheeks like water splashed onto a smoldering skillet. Solitary confinement is fucked up across the board - sentencing a minor to something like that borders on cruel and unusual punishment. Loneliness can chew through a kid like him from the inside out. Sanzo can’t help but imagine Goku’s pathetic face overflowing with tears while they wait in line for the showers. 

The bathroom is worse than the lunchroom, dirtier than the inside of a fishbowl with no filter. Sanzo grimaces at the feeling of grime underfoot, avoiding eye contact with the black mold spreading across the ceiling. He puts the thought out of his head as they stand under lukewarm water, crammed together like sardines. Gojyo’s fingers ghost across his hip “accidentally on purpose” anyway; Goku is oblivious. 

“Don’t drop the soap,” Gojyo warns him. 

Sanzo’s fingers curl into fists. “Why’s that? Your girlfriend not keeping you satisfied?”

Hakkai holds the perfect poker face, Sanzo can tell just from looking that he’s good at gambling. He has a sizable collection of weapons hidden between loose bricks in the prison walls, too. At least, that’s where he can surmise the plastic forks have been disappearing to everyday at the end of lunch. Sanzo is willing to bet he’s got a sharpened candy cane and a hoard of dental floss, and he’s wary of cornering him for exactly this reason.

“We don’t need them,” Sanzo says under his breath, watching the water spiral down the drain. 

Goku shakes his head. “Gojyo has the cellphone,” he says without further elaboration. “And ‘Kai will kill us if we try and leave.”

Knowing Hakkai is wrestling homicidal urges is more comforting than it has any right to be. Better to befriend a killer than to make enemies of one. They wait until the roach scuttles off before following Hakkai into the library where they catch him reshelving books. The whole thing is picture-perfect, minus the orange jumpsuit. Goku stands guard by the door while Sanzo slips into an aisle and catches Hakkai’s attention over a world atlas. 

“Listen,” Sanzo starts, impatient. They peer at each other from between the empty space in the bookshelf. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Oh,” Hakkai says impishly, scanning the spine of a hardback. He thumbs through a few pages without looking up. “Are you asking me for a favor?” Sanzo groans at Hakkai’s broad smile. “I can do it, of course.” He snaps the book shut. “Under two conditions.”

“I haven’t even asked yet.”

“I don’t mind.” Hakkai takes out the atlas and glances down the row with no discernable shift in expression. “Do you?”

Sanzo considers his options and comes back with zip, nada, zilch. “The first condition is sex, isn’t it?” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Why is it always sex with you people?”

“It’s not that kind of favor,” Hakkai promises. His eyes skate left and right before his voice drops to a hush. “I need a package collected.”

He thinks he can whip Sanzo into becoming a drug mule? Typical. Just when Sanzo is starting to think he can process the idea, Gojyo strolls in, probably from taking a piss. He has his fists stuffed in his pockets as he approaches. The room is too quiet for the time of day; the moment is too private for the setting.

“Gojyo,” Hakkai says softly, like everything is going according to plan. “Just in time.” 

Gojyo furrows his brow, instantly suspicious. “For what?”

Sanzo grinds his molars together. “For you to give me a goddamned smoke.”

As it turns out, the package is collateral for Hakkai’s latest gambling win, and Gojyo just gave a handy for half a stale pack of smokes. Hakkai forces him to share his bounty while he removes his false eye, retrieving a small metal pin from behind it. There’s a sick, squirmy feeling burrowing in Sanzo’s gut.

“Why do I have to go?” Gojyo wheedles. 

“A friend of yours is doing the drop off,” Hakkai says, face unreadable. “Although we could switch jobs, if you’d like.” 

Hakkai is in charge of planning their escape route and getaway vehicle. He’s been cryptic enough so far that Sanzo still isn’t sure how, and at this point, he doesn’t really want to know. The only other job is Goku’s, and Sanzo doubts anyone but him is capable of moving quick enough to cut the power without getting caught. He watches Gojyo flounder helplessly before giving up. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Gojyo says. “I get it, I’m going.”

“So we’ll meet back here after you finish your end of the bargain. Is that okay with you, Sanzo?”

What’s the point in asking when there are no other options? The plan is as good as it's ever going to be, given the circumstances, and they’re running out of time to rehash the details. Fuck it. 

“Let’s move,” Sanzo grumbles. 

Free will is an illusion anyway. 

They have to sneak into the basement and find some bottom feeder named Banri in order to secure what Hakkai keeps referring to as their “secret weapon.” That’s saying something, considering he’s got a six pack of shivs stashed inside a bible or behind a loose brick somewhere. Hakkai gave a basic description of Banri for Sanzo’s benefit, but he can sense Banri’s aura before he sees him, like a fireball in a bowl of ice water. 

He doesn't make eye contact with Sanzo but he sizes Gojyo up right away, like a big cat on the prowl, eager to pick off the small and the sick. He leans in close, inhaling along Gojyo’s jawline, before slipping his hand over his and pressing a small plastic bag into his palm. It looks less like a drug deal and more like a one night stand.

They pull apart like taffy and shake hands as if the whole thing wasn’t intimate. Banri disappears down the hallway without a single word and Gojyo presses his back to the wall, shoulders knocking Sanzo’s while he tries to catch his breath. Sanzo can feel the cement leaving imprints along the length of his spine. Why does it feel like he’s been here before?

“Here, you hold it,” Gojyo demands. “Shove it in your ass or something.”

Sanzo glances to the small item, wrapped in cellophane with a rubberband around the middle, and thinks about crushing it. He crosses his arms instead.

“Not in this lifetime, roach.” 

Time passes tortoise slow; they still have to wait until the shift switch to move. Gojyo looks too confused to actually do anything with it. There aren’t any pockets on the jumpsuit and it’s big enough to look conspicuous hidden in his white knuckled fist. There’s sweat beading on Gojyo’s empty forehead.

His voice cracks. “What if it absorbs into the walls of my asshole?”

Sanzo scowls. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Oh yeah?” Gojyo narrows his eyes, voice loud enough to attract attention. “Well I don’t see you volunteering your holy ass!”

Why all the jokes about religion, and more to the point, why do they all make sense? Sanzo’s brain feels shaken and stirred, like an old stew with mold on the bottom of the pot.

“This is a special delivery for your boyfriend,” Sanzo reminds him. “Ergo, your fucking responsibility.”

“Without my boyfriend your tightass would be spending another night in a cell!” Gojyo swallows. “What did Hakkai say it was called again? Wild adapter?”

“Shut up,” Sanzo snaps. “Someone is coming.”

They stand in total silence, waiting for the encroaching footfalls to fade away, turned right down some earlier corridor. Sanzo watches one of the exposed pipes near the ceiling drip. When he finally deems it safe enough to speak, the lights go out, instantly cloaking the hallway in darkness. He can hear the shoddy sewage system now more than ever, leaking into a shallow puddle on the floor.

“Miss me?” 

Someone throws an arm around Sanzo’s neck before his eyes have time to adjust, reeling him in close. The shapes shift into focus before Sanzo has time to panic, held in place by a spiky haired silhouette more familiar than his own shadow. Goku snatches the little package from Gojyo’s fingers and waves it in the air before it disappears behind the waistband of his pants. 

“What?” Goku huffs indignantly at their twin looks of terror. “You guys were taking way too long!”

Sanzo seethes. “You’re supposed to be in the library!”

They don't have enough time to dwell on the decision because they've been spotted - for real this time. A prison guard steps into Sanzo’s line of vision, firearm ready. They wait until he reaches for his walkie talkie to move, surrounding him before he can bring the receiver to his mouth to speak. Gojyo yanks his arms behind his back, Goku incapacitates him, and Sanzo plucks the gun from his belt. 

“Classic rookie mistake,” Sanzo tells him, turning the weapon in his hands. “Never take your eyes off the target.” 

The weight of it in his hand is divine, written in the stars before he was born. His breath catches when he cocks it, counts the shells inside, and sighs. The tension drains from his shoulders when he switches off the safety. 

“Dude,” Gojyo says. “Get a room.”

They end up dumping the unconscious guard in a broom closet and fighting over who gets to wear his uniform. It’s too big for Goku, and too small for Gojyo, but somehow he ends up wearing it anyway. He flicks on the flashlight, illuminating the desolate path back to the library. 

“Goku,” Sanzo says. “I think it’s about time we get the fuck out of here.”

There’s no way in hell Gojyo can pass for a real guard, but he does, nonchalantly ushering them through the deserted hallway in pants that cut off above his ankles and a shirt so tight the buttons are close to popping off. Just as Hakkai predicted, the prisoners are being round up and held in the cafeteria or the courtyard. 

“We’ve got ten minutes if we’re lucky,” Sanzo reminds them. “Before the electrician makes it to the backup generator in the basement.”

They’re breathless by the time they make it to the library, sweat soaking through their clothes. Time slows to a stop when Sanzo steps through the entrance, and the entire building springs to life, doors locking automatically behind them. Sanzo stares over his shoulder and remembers another doorway somewhere else, twice as massive and full of his blood.

“Shit,” Sanzo says. “We’re fucked.”

Their chance of escape is next to nil while the prison is on lockdown, shut up tight like a stale pistachio with a deafening siren blasting through the shell. There’s been an official announcement about a missing employee already, but Sanzo knows no one is going to find them in the back room of the library until they send out reinforcements. All of their planning - blown to shit because Goku couldn’t keep his damn trap shut.

When Sanzo turns back to face them, the atmosphere is frozen over, diametric. Hakkai and Gojyo are watching him, and Goku’s face is twisted up with unshed tears. Sanzo can sense the danger before it dawns on him, the way a gazelle can feel the presence of a lion before its pounce. He backs up into the reinforced wall, wrestling with the urge to flee. 

“Gentlemen,” Hakkai says, unsmiling. “We are on a time limit.”

Gojyo moves immediately - premeditated - in an ill-fated attempt to pin him. He has all of the strength but none of the coordination; Sanzo slips through his fingers like hot water. 

“Don’t tell me,” Sanzo mutters, throat dry. “This is condition number two.” 

There’s no point in putting up a fight. Sanzo is quick, but he’s out of practice and outnumbered three to one. They corner him in the far back, between two broken down bookshelves and a step stool. Hakkai holds Sanzo’s hands behind his back while Gojyo pats him down, smoothing over the curve of his ass so he can slip the gun from the waistband of his underwear and out through the bottom of his pantleg. 

“You seriously want to hold up our one chance of escape to slip dick?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Gojyo says. “You’re cute, but you ain’t that cute.” He places the weapon out of sight before refocusing his attention on Sanzo. “C’mon, it’s not like we want to rape you.”

Sanzo narrows his eyes and spits in his face. “Go to hell.” 

“Better than spending an eternity cleaning up after your unholy ass.” Gojyo wipes his cheek clean before leaning in close, brushing his thumb over Sanzo’s clavicle. “I’m gonna enjoy fucking the backtalk right out of your pretty little throat.”

Hakkai holds him tighter when Sanzo tries to smash his forehead into Gojyo’s smirking face. The noise behind his ear is so hollow that at first, Sanzo doesn’t realize Hakkai is laughing.

“Besides, since we’re already trapped inside, it only makes sense that we should try to go out with a bang.” 

Sanzo tries catching Goku’s attention but he’s staring hard at the floor, sniffling behind dark brown bangs. There’s so much shame it’s radiating off in waves, puddling around his feet so thick it’s almost physical. Gojyo rubs the back of his neck and averts his gaze, either because he’s embarrassed or because he feels bad, or both. 

“Even the monkey,” Sanzo realizes belatedly. His face darkens. “What did it take? Did they bribe you with bananas? Or were you waiting for this too? A chance to have me like you’ve always wanted - helpless and - ”

“Shut up!”

Anger erupts from Goku in a volcanic burst of energy, propelling him forward. Hakkai steps out of the way as he stumbles toward Sanzo, miscalculates his own strength, and ends up tackling him to the floor like a rabid dog. The back of his blond head hits a brick and Sanzo sees heaven: nothing but phonies in white robes and piles of paperwork. Been there, done that, burned the t-shirt. 

Silence settles after, heavy as the season’s first snowfall. Goku crawls over Sanzo’s sprawled form, legs snug around his waist, eye contact unrelenting. Sanzo can see an entire sun in there, shining back at him behind his own reflection. 

“I’d rape you a thousand times if it meant having you back,” Goku says, utterly serious. 

This close, Sanzo can smell what he had for lunch and feel the damp heat of each shared breath. Goku’s hands swallow Sanzo’s, threading their fingers until their palms are flush. Sanzo knows what’s coming next, like an old movie he’s seen so many times the ending makes him sick. When the space between their lips dissolves, Gojyo and Hakkai become background blurs in a panoramic photograph. 

Kissing feels old hat, the way married couples leisurely suck face after they’ve already figured out all the good spots. It shouldn’t feel romantic and it doesn’t - it feels even better - something more important than stolen symbolism and empty promises. Goku works his way around the interior of Sanzo’s mouth, sucking on his tongue and tickling his gums until Sanzo pulls away, hot all the way to his ears, eyebrows digging wells in his forehead. 

“I’d rather die.”

The incident before Sanzo’s arrest escapes his subconscious uncuffed, oil slick shame eking from his juvenile memory. He can’t even recall their faces - the group of thugs that threatened Sanzo’s purity when he was still just a kid - but he doesn’t have to. Those criminals left Sanzo with no choice but to become one of them, and now he’ll never be cleansed of their blood. 

Hakkai claps his hands together. “Oh Sanzo,” he says sweetly. “You always pick the hard way.”

The resulting teamwork occurs so naturally it might as well be instinct. Goku insists on laying down his clothes so Sanzo doesn’t scuff his knees on the floor, like he’s some kind of imperial princess. The monkey looks older undressed, with tanned muscles rippling whenever he moves. Gojyo is crowded against Sanzo’s back, arms locked under his pits to hold him in place.

“It’s not our fault you’re too stupid to remember on your own,” Gojyo huffs over his shoulder.

Goku watches from on the floor beside him, pink faced and eager. His presence shouldn’t be a comfort, but it’s all Sanzo has left. 

“Remember what?” Sanzo barely manages to smother a scream. “Can someone explain to me what the fuck is going on?”

“I’d try, but I’m afraid this is one of those unfortunate situations where hands-on application is the best approach.”

Hakkai crouches in front of him and reaches for the zipper on Sanzo’s jumper, pulling it down in one swift, even movement, and exposing the deep valley below his navel. He smooths his fingers over the divot under each rib. It feels more like a medical examination than foreplay. 

“You’re really small,” Goku says quietly.

Hakkai clicks his tongue and Gojyo sucks air through his teeth. The holster on his belt is digging into Sanzo’s lower back. 

“You need to eat more, man.”

“I eat fine.” 

Since when did this become some sentimental intervention? The three of them are looking at each other like they’re going to a party together later, but Sanzo never got an invitation. Like hell he’s going to let Hakkai haul him around as a designated driver. Who died and left these stray pieces of shit in charge of his life? 

"Yeah, maybe for a mouse. You look like a sixteen year old girl," Gojyo mocks. “But not hot.”

"You would know," Sanzo snaps. “Now stop discussing my BMI and fuck me already.”

Apparently, that’s the admission Goku has been waiting for. Hakkai moves out of the way so he can seat himself on Sanzo’s legs, hypnotized by his own finger skating across his unblemished chest. Sanzo stops breathing when Goku bows his head, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and inhaling with a shudder. There’s an excited hot water heater pressed up against him, leaving burn marks shaped like hickeys down his sternum. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Goku says against his stomach.

Sanzo snorts. “It’s a little late for that.” 

There are already pink spots along his neck and bruises the size of Goku’s fingers forming on his hips. Although Goku’s tears may have dried, Sanzo can sense another wave coming, like a flock of birds taking flight before an earthquake. Sanzo’s own natural disaster. 

“Listen monkey,” Sanzo says through grit teeth. “There’s no way I’m letting you stick your tiny virgin dick inside me.” 

“Am not!” he wails. “I’m not a virgin! I’ve done it before, for real.” 

Another flash swallows Sanzo whole; Goku’s sandpaper voice echoing in the empty inn room and the scripture shaking on the headboard above them. There’s an image of the back of Goku’s ears, long and pointed, where desert sand has begun to collect during storms. Sanzo turns away - jealous against his will - and the vision slips away like sand in the wind. 

“With who?”

“One time when Gojyo lost a bet about how much I could fit in my mouth at once.” Goku presses his lips into a thin line before beginning in a much lower voice. “And another time...with someone else.” 

Sanzo can feel the precise moment Goku gets hard, blood rushing into the cock against his thigh. The early morning feels far away, when Goku shoved his nose in Sanzo’s lap and lured him into a blowjob that felt like fireworks. Sanzo is sick of feeling torn. Is there really any point in trying to be a good person if right and wrong don’t exist?

“You just have to trust us.” Goku sniffles and sits up before wiping away a smear of snot under Sanzo’s navel. “Trust me,” he begs. 

Trust is a fickle thing, swayed by transient emotions and the uncontrollable hormones flooding his bloodstream. It feels like the underside of an old carpet, torn up, shit on, and left on the side of the curb. He doesn’t want anything to do with it, but the waste collectors keep leaving it there to haunt him, until he has to drag it into the garage, water damage be damned. 

“Fine,” Sanzo says at last, squeezing his eyes shut. “Get off me. I’ll do it.” 

A beat passes where Sanzo wonders if it’s too late for them to believe him. Then Hakkai inclines his head and Gojyo slowly releases him. Goku sits back on his haunches, instantly lighter. There’s sunlight leaking in through the barred windows, casting shadows on the floor and brightening old book titles.

“Gojyo has condoms,” Hakkai says, forcing Sanzo to feel the weight of their combined presence. 

Sanzo shrugs. “Don’t need it.” He squirms the rest of the way out of his clothes, determined to reclaim what little control he can. “I’m nobody’s bitch,” he declares. “Prison, fuckhole, or otherwise.”

Abstinence, his ass. Nakedness is its own act of God, something sacred, skin to skin. He’s pale from top to bottom, thin as a twig, and effortlessly confident, even with an uncircumcised cock hanging flaccid between his legs. He waits for Gojyo and Hakkai to follow, but they won’t stop staring. It’s hard to tell if they’re horrified or impressed by his conviction. 

“You don’t have to be my bitch!” Goku explains frantically. “It doesn’t even have to mean anything,” he insists, voice shaky. The next part he says so soft Sanzo isn’t sure he heard right. “But it could.”

Hakkai raises his eyebrows. “There’s nothing submissive about using protection, Sanzo.” His lip flattens into a concerned line. “We all care about you, although it probably doesn’t feel that way right now.”

Caring is trust’s ugly cousin, the one you’ve been avoiding at every family reunion for as far back as you can remember.

“Enough girly talk. You said you wanted me to suck you off.” Sanzo eyes the mismatched pair, steeling himself for what’s to come. “Well, your clothes aren’t going to undress themselves.” 

Hakkai and Gojyo pull Sanzo up to his knees, now that he's given them permission. Gojyo is still wearing the navy blue uniform, half hard dick poking through the unzipped slit of his pants. Hakkai folds his clothes while Goku wiggles between Sanzo’s parted legs, flat on his back, and begins gently plying him open from underneath. He licks Sanzo crack to taint, then up and over his balls. 

“Stop messing around,” Sanzo groans. 

Goku worms his tongue past the first ring of muscle, dragging a choked noise from Sanzo’s throat. Each of his fists is full of cock, pulsating in his struggling grip. Goku pulls away and licks his lips.

“But I’m not messin’ around.”

When Hakkai guides Sanzo’s head toward his hefty erection, he’s already spiritually prepared. His life before now makes cocksucking look like a cakewalk. The head brushes his lips like an obscene kiss and slips over his tongue while Gojyo snatches his wrist, enclosing Sanzo’s fingers around his throbbing member. Hakkai hums his encouragement while Sanzo sucks him off, searching for a rhythm between the pair. 

He pulls on Gojyo’s cock in disjointed, tight gripped strokes, with Goku underneath him, defying gravity to push his tongue into his hole. Hakkai is bigger between them, but Gojyo is rougher and thicker. They’re both demanding, but at least Hakkai has the decency to pretend to be polite about it. Gojyo pulls on his hair and tilts his hips forward until Sanzo wants to puke. 

“Bastard!”

“Don’t be an asshole!” Goku says, nose buried in his ass. 

Gojyo snickers and Goku wedges the tip of a spit soaked finger inside him. Sanzo’s back arches as Goku twists his wrist like a screwdriver, coating his asshole with spit and sinking into the second knuckle. The way Sanzo twitches is purely reflexive, not because Goku’s calloused finger is creating electricity inside him. 

“I don’t need you,” Sanzo begins bitterly, “fighting my battles.”

Gojyo tugs on his hair again and Sanzo growls. "Cherry-chan can handle this."

"Be polite," Hakkai admonishes. Sanzo isn't sure if he's talking to him or Gojyo. Hakkai's hand twitches as he turns to look at his perv of a boyfriend. "Doesn't he look pretty with his mouth on the both us?" he says, lowering his voice for Gojyo’s benefit. “I’d like to see you like that, sometime.” 

Their shameless romanticism is the grossest thing that has occurred by far. Gojyo’s hands scrabble over Sanzo’s scalp, hips trembling as he smears a streak of precum across his cheek. Hakkai brushes sweat slick hair from Sanzo’s forehead, hand crawling around to the back of his neck so can push his face into both of their cocks at once. Sanzo licks a stripe up one and curls his tongue begrudgingly around the other, chest heaving.

“Good job, Sanzo,” Hakkai says, patting his head condescendingly. 

Goku chooses this moment to inch out from under him. He presses his body against Sanzo’s from behind and takes hold of his hips, pulling on them until Sanzo takes the hint and drops down to all fours. Gojyo hunches over to reorient his cock to the seam of Sanzo’s lips, forcing them apart with the help of Hakkai. 

“I’m not a dog,” Sanzo spits, muffled by Gojyo’s dick grinding into the roof of his mouth.

The ceiling lights flicker on one at a time, signaling the end of lockdown. They have less than five minutes before the guards and prison personnel make it here, if they’re lucky. Goku presses his face into Sanzo's crack, drooling, and works two fingers inside. Sanzo ignores the pang of humiliation when his cock rises against his stomach, muscles drawn tight around Goku’s crooked digits. 

“Is this okay?” Goku asks, but Sanzo doesn’t answer, not that he would have even if his mouth weren’t full of dick.

"It’s fine," he manages when he finally comes up for air.

"But, Sanzo..."

There isn’t time to dissect the details. He’s heard this all before, and not just in this prison. Although Sanzo can’t see Goku, he can picture the pout perfectly, on a smaller version with longer hair, bottom lip jutting out. 

"I said I'm fine."

He isn’t fine, but he never has been, not when he was molested in the orphanage and not after, when he worked as a missionary beside his master. Life is never fine, it just is, and there isn’t anything he can do about it. 

"Sanzo,” Goku repeats, mystified. “You're hard."

It’s something akin to deja vu, but worse, like an earworm burrowing into Sanzo’s brain and laying eggs. He’s beginning to think this isn’t the first time they’ve fucked. There are too many limbs for sex this flawless, and they’ve had too little time to learn each other’s sweet spots.

"Do you want to die?" Sanzo shoves back onto Goku's fingers. "Move goddammit."

Gojyo sniggers as Goku wiggles another alongside the first two, jabbing his prostrate and spreading his ass until its pliant and wet. It contracts when Goku pulls out, before quickly replacing his digits with the blunt tip of his cock. 

"What, you think holy boy can't keep up?”

Hakkai chuckles. “He does have a delicate constitution."

Goku ignores him, bowing his forehead to brush against the small of Sanzo’s back. His voice lowers to a whisper, hoarse with desire.

“I’m gonna put it in now, okay?”

Sanzo grunts in response, trying not to clench against the intrusion. The first inch is the hardest, like a molten spearhead tearing its way through tissue. A heat ignites in Sanzo’s belly, so overwhelming it borders on scalding. Goku wraps both arms around him, cradling his stomach and curling his chest against his back as he slowly stretches out the puckered ring.

“Don’t drag it out,” Sanzo quips.

With a snap of his hips, Goku sheathes himself inside, pubes sandwiched between their skin. The size of Goku’s cock is average at best, but it feels massive from this perspective, tunneling through his flesh. He pulls back out while Hakkai smooths a thumb along his collarbone and Gojyo threads his fingers in his hair. It’s all a little too tender for Sanzo’s taste, but he’ll take it.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Goku says, repeating the words like a mantra. “I’m inside you.”

His cock pulsates in Sanzo’s slippery hole like an inverted rod of lightning. For a split second, everything in the universe aligns, forced into place by a cosmic dick shift. Sanzo’s shoulders tremble and he squeezes his eyes shut. No one ever warned him that affection could swallow him whole, that his own emotional response could cause suffocation.

“My head is fucking killing me.”

The first full memory tears its way through Sanzo’s consciousness and leaves cracks in his skull. Colors become oversaturated, like a painting dipped in glaze. The earth tilts on its axis and reality slips off the edge, devoured by a black hole.

Everything smells like blood and there are rosary beads in his white knuckled fist. The timeline is alien, but it’s still them - Sanzo and Gojyo and Goku and Hakkai - stumbling through the desert in a dragon turned jeep. Nothing makes any sense. He lives a thousand lifetimes in fraction of a second, watches his own heart break and mend, stitched together even stronger.

"Fuck, swallow for me beautiful."

Gojyo’s voice slices through the fog of half collected imagery, grounding him in the present. Sanzo shudders, unloading a mouthful of cum into his lap between coughs. Hakkai’s smile falters when he comes a moment after, like a tiny ripple breaking the surface tension in a pond. His hips stiffen and the grip on his head locks in place, forcing stream after stream of semen down Sanzo’s convulsing throat. 

This is what drowning looks like, a flood of feelings inflating his chest. Hakkai releases him and Sanzo drops like a dead weight, breaking the fall on his forearms. He stares at his overgrown cuticles as he gasps for air, wondering how much time has really passed, wondering if time means anything at all.

“Told ya the pervy water sprite would blow first,” Goku exclaims, sinking into the hilt, reinvigorated by the declaration. “I knew he was a one pump chump!”

Hakkai nods. "It appears that way, doesn’t it Goku?"

"I can hear, you know!" Gojyo complains, but his rebuttal is devoid of any real anger. If anything, his next response is laced with thinly veiled concern. “How’s saint Sanzo doing down there, you sure you didn’t kill him?”

Their conversation flows like a game of russian roulette where somebody forgot to load the gun. It just keeps going around and around in one big circle. Goku kisses the space between his shoulders blades before pulling back. 

“I know what Sanzo likes.” 

Goku retraces the route he’s paved in Sanzo’s ass, reshaping it to the cock encased inside him. When he’s finished, every vein is going to be engraved in his guts - a sacrilegious stamp on his soul. Each fuck forward punches the air from Sanzo’s lungs, until he’s biting his lip to keep from screaming. He doesn’t notice his own cock throbbing until Goku wraps his fingers around it, warm palm flush against the shaft.

“Hurry up,” Sanzo bites out, grinding back against him. “Hurry up and cum already.”

The remaining memories filter in like sunlight through the blinds in the early morning, casting silhouettes in the right shape but the wrong dimension. His life is nothing more than a ruse - a board game played by the Gods - a joke with Sanzo as the punchline. 

“You too,” Goku breathes. “I wanna make you cum too, Sanzo.”

“Stupid,” Sanzo huffs, “I’m already close.”

Goku strokes him in time with each thrust, forcing Sanzo to match his bruising pace. The sound of their skin slapping together echoes in the library as Goku pummels his prostate, tearing a cry of desperation from Sanzo’s throat. His balls draw up close and the heat pooling there torpedos into an explosion, and a maelstrom of pleasure skyrockets from inside him.

Sanzo can sense Goku’s impending orgasm like it’s his own, in the stilted, frenzied motion and jackhammer tempo. The knotted muscles begin to unfurl and a moment later it’s over. His hips stutter to a stop and his cock pulses, spewing a load of cum in Sanzo’s ass. Goku picks up where he left off and keeps moving like he never came at all, wringing another spurt of jizz from Sanzo’s spent cock.

“Look at those two,” Hakkai says.

Gojyo laughs, distorted, like there are light years between them. “Just like old times.”

When he can finally refocus his eyes, he sees a crowd of policemen behind two heavy glass doors, stunned into silence, their eyes wide as saucers. Backup was bound to come eventually, but it’s hard to feel scared with a thousand years of experience under his belt.

“Goddammit,” Sanzo pants, trying to recalibrate his brain. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Goku pulls out and Sanzo rolls over, effortlessly snatching the gun from underneath an overturned bookshelf. Hakkai is already fully clothed. He watches Sanzo redress, spunk cemented across his stomach. The doors open and a line of armed men file in while Goku slips into the bottom half of his jumper, tying the arms around his waist so his chest is bare.

“Hands up, we are prepared to shoot!”

There’s a couple old guys and a bunch of kids that look straight out of high school, too small for the uniform they’re stuffed inside. 

“C’mon now, you guys just got a free show,” Gojyo drawls, unconcerned. “If anything, you owe us.”

Hakkai raises his arms above his head and addresses Sanzo without looking at him. Goku and Sanzo follow in suit while Gojyo trudges lazily behind, unafraid.

“Now would be a good time to unload the secret weapon,” Hakkai says, barely moving his lips. “If you’re waiting for the opportune moment, this is it.”

“Secret weapon?” Gojyo repeats, dumbfounded.

“The package,” Hakkai hisses. 

“Uh…” Gojyo grimaces. Now, he looks frightened. “Sanzo, Hakkai wants the package.”

The package completely slipped Sanzo’s mind during the sexual hysteria and abbreviated post-orgasmic bliss. How it can possibly benefit them during a high stakes situation is anybody’s guess. Trust is all he has left, so Sanzo takes it.

“Hey, monkey!” The guard closest to them is trembling. He can’t be much older than Goku. He shifts aim away from Sanzo, sweat beading on his brow. “What happened to the package?”

They turn to Goku in unison, but he’s no longer standing beside them, instead he’s doubled over on the floor. A man with a hook nose takes one step closer, adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows. Goku makes a gurgling noise and a shudder rolls across his entire body. 

“Get up off the ground! Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Goku retches and a bullet whizzes past them. Sanzo can feel his own weapon pressed against his hip, but instinct and innumerable situations from his past warns him that now isn’t the time to draw it. 

“There’s something wrong with our friend,” Hakkai states calmly. 

The head officer isn’t buying it. At least, not until Goku claws at the ground and vomits blood. The entire group moves back by two paces and Goku pukes again, palms submerged in a puddle of red. The prison warden winces in disgust and a graying, burly man waves his gun at Hakkai, misjudging his politeness for weakness, just like they hoped he would.

“You,” says the officer. “Get him up, now!”

Hakkai moves slowly, careful not to spook the inexperienced trainees as he hauls Goku up off the ground. He tips precariously on his feet and his head lolls to the side, boneless. A hundred violent lifetimes flash through his mind. This time, Sanzo knows what’s coming. They’re cuffing Goku when it happens. His muscles spasm and he jerks his wrists, pulling the metal apart like a dollar store toy. 

“Hold your fire!” 

The entire crowd tenses, and the tips of Goku’s ears elongate, eyes glossed over, pupils slit. His fingernails stretch into claws and fur snakes up his wrist. The vein in his forearm bulges as steam rises up around him. His lips twist into a smile and he bares his fangs, sharp all the way to his molars. He shreds the first guard on sight, tearing through five more before the firing squad has time to react. 

“Holy shit!” Hakkai exclaims. “Did you feed it to him?”

Gojyo makes a circle with his pointer and thumb before sliding his other finger through it lasciviously. Hakkai is frozen, carefully constructed facade crumbling behind the first real look of dread.

“He didn’t…”

Sanzo licks his lips. “He did.”

“I told you!” Gojyo screeches. “It absorbed into the walls of his asshole!”

“And no one told him to take it out?” He turns to Sanzo, pitch high. The next words come out slow, like Hakkai is struggling to find a response. “What kind of pet owner are you?”

“Tch,” Sanzo shrugs. “You didn’t ask where they were either.”

“Well I sure as hell didn’t think their whereabouts were up Goku’s butt!”

“Christ, Hakkai…” Gojyo gapes as a bullet sears Goku’s ribs. He picks it out with his claws and shakes himself off like a wet dog. “Just what the fuck is in that shit?”

They watch Goku chew through the barrel of a gun and sink his teeth into the neck of the guard on the other end. Blood ricochets off the ceiling while the warden makes a run for his life, followed by half a dozen thunderstruck officers. 

“Goku!” Sanzo shouts. The monkey is quick to face him, pupils eeking into the gold bands around them. “Look at what you’ve done.” Goku circles him, wary, ignoring the corpses. Creases form on either side of Sanzo’s lips when he frowns. “I ought to rub your nose in it.”

Goku is by his side in a streak of light, shoving his face into Sanzo’s neck and scenting him like an animal. He snaps his hips and snarls, breathing in short, shallow breaths. Only a demon could still want to fuck after what they’ve been through. Sanzo shoves a knee between his legs and works the gun from his jumpsuit while the monkey is still distracted. 

“What was it you said before, about never wanting to be being alone?” Sanzo asks, trying to ignore the razor sharp nails sinking into his skin. “You know what happens to bad dogs, right?” He smacks Goku so hard with the gun handle a stream of blood spurts from his nose. “They get put to sleep.”

The blow doesn’t deliver any real damage, but it shocks him stupid for just long enough for Sanzo to slip from his grip. Gojyo and Hakkai are heading off what few men are left, shielding themselves from gunfire with chairs. Goku’s gaze locks on Sanzo as he revs up for another attack. Someone yells a warning, but it’s too late, and there’s no outrunning him.

“Sanzo, watch out!”

When he sprints across the room, Sanzo’s body moves on its own. His arm unfolds and shoots out in front of him, forcing Goku to crash face first into his splayed hand. He grips his head hard, fingertips digging into the skin of his temples. There’s no scripture this time to save him, but the words spill out from his muscle memory anyway, reflexive. 

“Will that work in this universe?” Hakkai wonders out loud, terrified. “Can he still do that?”

“Pfft, how should I know how his priesty powers work?”

Sanzo shuts out his surroundings, pleading with the assholes up in heaven he knows are watching. The merciful goddess must think it’s a riot. Koumyou would tell him, I told you so. He clears his mind and lets the chanting guide him, setting aside before and after, living only in the now. Whatever history is behind them doesn’t matter, the only path Sanzo follows is in front of him. 

“Holy shit,” someone mumbles. “It’s working.”

A blinding flash surrounds them, so bright Sanzo can see it behind the darkness of his own eyelids. There’s a fire pressed up against his chest, burning its way through his fragile human body. Goku’s soul converges with his own before bouncing back, stirring up a gust of wind so big it almost bowls them over. Sanzo blinks and finds a tornado twisted around them, spiraling up through a crater in the ceiling.

Goku glows like he’s made of magic, the centerfold of a beam of light brighter than the sun. His toes hover above the ground and his body spasms. When he finally falls limp in Sanzo’s arms, the world is incredibly quiet. The whirlwind dissipates like it was never there at all. If the whole thing wasn’t so predictable, he might be worried. 

“There’s not much time,” Hakkai urges, doing a poor job of masking his panic. “We’re armed and everyone is distracted. We still have a chance at escape.”

Sanzo would rather die trying than live his entire life in a cage, and he knows if Goku were conscious he would echo the sentiment. 

“Hey, monkey! There’s no time for you to take a nap.” Sanzo shakes him, gentle at first, and then harder, until he lifts his head and blinks.  
“Sanzo?”

He sounds more like a child than he has in a long, long time. Maybe since the first time they met, whenever that actually was.

“Who were you expecting, God?”

Sanzo shrugs him off and Goku stumbles before catching himself. He braces himself on his knees, breathlessly gazing at the hole in the ceiling and the evening sky beyond it, stretched longways like red-yellow saltwater taffy. The clouds are strung out, frothy wisps on a leaky watercolor backdrop. 

Gojyo ruffles Goku’s hair. “C’mon twerp, let’s hit the road before the pigs show.” 

They journey through the rest of the prison occurs so undisturbed it’s eerie. The building itself is still packed with prisoners, but the lot out front is completely vacant. There’s a host of police vehicles with doors wide open, and one with keys still in the ignition, like the entire force was whisked away in the middle of trying to flee. 

“So what, this is some kind of reincarnation fiasco?” Sanzo frowns. “What sins did I commit in my past life to deserve you three?” 

“Beats me,” Gojyo says, leaning against the trunk of a car. “But it must have been bad.”

They’re all so intimate with each other that looking at them is like staring through crystal. Sanzo can see all the parts and the patterns, doomed to repeat, destined to meet and recollect whenever their lives are finally snuffed out, like magnets attracted to metal. 

“I’m sick of waiting,” Goku complains, pulling on Sanzo’s torn shirt sleeve. “Let’s go already!”

Sanzo slips into the front seat of the open police cruiser while Hakkai takes his position on the driver’s side and Gojyo and Goku clamber into the back. The ignition stalls the first time - so trite Sanzo sees it coming - and then it starts. Gojyo lights up from the backseat, eyes half lidded as the smoke unfurls and sifts through the metal divider separating them. 

“You could have warned me,” Sanzo complains bitterly.

Hakkai turns to him to laugh. “Would you have believed us?”

“Hell no.” 

“I’m sorry Sanzo,” Hakkai says insincerely. “But it was worth it to see the look on your face.”

Sanzo closes his eyes and Hakkai floors it, sending everyone in the car thrown back against their seats. Goku slides across the seat and crushes Gojyo against the door when Hakkai makes a particularly sharp turn. Goku snickers and Hakkai covers his mouth. Sanzo can feel a smile ebbing it’s way onto his face, too.

“Shut up you stupid monkey!” 

“You’re the one who’s stupid, stupid!” Goku leans in close, palms pressed against the wall between them. “Where are we headed, huh Sanzo?”

The sun is bleeding into the horizon line like a melting cherry popsicle. The air is hot, but dry. There’s nothing but disaster behind them, and nothing but the unknown ahead. In other words, nothing but the usual.

“Same as always,” Sanzo says. “We go west.” He rolls his shoulders and heaves a monumental sigh. “Now who do I have to blow to get a smoke around here?”

“I’m afraid it’s between me and the devil.”

Sanzo answers without hesitation. “I choose the devil.” 

He turns just in time to catch Gojyo poking a smoldering cigarette through a hole in the grate. If his reaction time was any slower, he’d be burned. He snatches it from Gojyo and presses it to his lips, inhaling until his lungs are ready to burst.

“We really did it,” Goku says, nose pressed against the glass window, watching the scenery whizz past them. “And I never wanna go back.”

The world around him fades when he exhales, but the one inside his head remains. He keeps seeing different versions of himself, doppelgangers he’s never met stretched across an endless roll of film played in reverse.

Gojyo snorts. “Only a dumbass trips on what’s behind him.”

“Free of everything, bound by nothing. You live your life simply as it is.”

Hakkai chimes in on his cue, breathing easy. “If you meet the buddha on the road…” 

Goku grins, points his finger, and pops his wrist like a pistol. “Kill him.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the season of kink bingo prompt "double penetration"


End file.
